


Release - A "Yes, Tom" One-Shot

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [31]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Play, Choking, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Therapy Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Release - A "Yes, Tom" One-Shot

"Sir?"

It was around noon on a Thursday. Tom was sitting on the living room couch, engrossed, laptop perched somewhat awkwardly on one thigh. Whenever Tom did research for a role, he had to know everything. Every little detail, soaked up thirstily until the character's glass had been completely filled. I hated to interrupt him, but I knew this couldn't wait any longer. Puling his headphones off, he smiled and beckoned me towards him. "Yes, darling?"

It had been a rough morning so far. I wasn't sure if it was hormones, cabin fever from not working, or a combination of both. By the time I came downstairs, I was close to tears, although I didn't even know why. Mildly pouting, my bottom lip jutting out slightly, I flopped down next to him on the sofa. I wrapped my arms around his bicep and laid my head against his shoulder, but I stayed silent.

"Still not feeling better?" Without looking up, I shook my head. "And you did some meditating?" I nodded. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes…" Tom had told me 30, so I quickly added, "but I also took a bath, and nothing is helping."

"It's okay, sweetheart," he assured me. "What would you like me to do?"

"You _know_ what I want you to do…" I whined under my breath, my eyes still avoiding contact with his.

"Yes, I do. But I need you to _tell_ me. If it is not a punishment, Elizabeth, then I want you to be clear and tell me exactly what you want," he explained, his tone firm yet soft. I sighed and reached for Tom's hand. He offered me his index finger, pressing it into my palm. Overcome with embarrassment, I held it tightly, burying my face against his arm. Soothingly, he reminded me, "It's okay, take all the time you need. No reason to rush."

Often, I struggled with asking for things, especially when it came to sexual or emotional needs. And this was kind of a combination of both. Today, I was trying to ask Tom to spank me. It was incredibly difficult for me to do, but it was precisely what I needed _and_ what I wanted: not for punishment, not for foreplay (although spankings usually led to sex), but to help me release the pent-up frustration wreaking havoc on my well-being. Occasionally referred to as therapy spankings, we had begun calling them "mood-adjustment spankings". Basically, it was a spanking designed to help me let everything out and just cry. I was, at my very core, rather over-sensitive, like many submissives, and I struggled to keep from acquiescing to my emotional whims. Sometimes I needed a safe, non-corrective method to help. And this worked wonders.

Tom and I had only just begun using the spankings, but they were already a welcome addition for both of us. They allowed me to confront and dispel issues that may be bothering me, but that for one reason or another I couldn't quite discern the reason for; like PMS, or just general crankiness. In addition, they kept me from getting in trouble so much. Sometimes when I was in a really bad mood, I would subconsciously antagonize Tom to try and get punished, which was draining on both of us. Just in the short time we'd begun using spankings for therapy, I felt more in control of my feelings, and that in turn empowered me. It was a huge revelation and I couldn't believe we had just learned about them. 

The only problem was that, like many women, I still had a tremendous amount of reticence when it came to expressing my desires. And when I wanted to be spanked, Tom and I had decided that I had to ask for it clearly, because otherwise it blurred the line between corrective and therapeutic action. Even though I agreed, and in fact, completely supported this delineation, it didn't make saying the words any easier. My face already flush, I couldn't even look at him. Taking a deep breath, I began, my voice muffled against his shirt, "I need… I need you to spank me, please, sir." 

His hand sneaked up to the nape of my neck and he massaged for a moment. Leaning down, his lips brushed against my forehead. "I love you so much, Elizabeth, and I'm so proud of you for asking. You did a wonderful job this time." I smiled sheepishly, glancing up at him momentarily before hiding my face once more. Last time it took almost ten minutes; the time before it was close to 20. "There's my girl. Go up to the bedroom, okay? Bed restraints?"

"Yes, I'll pull them out." I slid off the couch and stood up. "No belt though, okay?"

"Okay, no belt. But you know if I just use my hand you won't feel it enough for it to be of any benefit."

I rolled my eyes as I turned to go upstairs, adding a perfunctory, "Yes, sir." He was right, though, and in all honestly, I knew it. It had to be painful to make a difference. The pain is what pushed me through, forcing whatever was bothering me to the surface and allowing me to let go. If the pain wasn't intense enough, it would be a waste. 

"Elizabeth, would you rather this be a punishment?"

"No, sir… Sorry."

"Okay. I'll be up in five minutes, so be ready."

When I got upstairs, I stripped and did a few extra-deep breaths to prepare. We had a four-point bed restraint system, and we kept the cuff parts tucked into the side where the box spring sat. I got them out and laid them on the bed, then picked my favorite pillow and put it in the center. It was a cylindrical pillow, and it kept my hips up nicely but didn't make me feel uncomfortable or unbalanced. By the time I was finished, Tom was just coming up the stairs. He had some bottled water and a box of tissues, which he set on the bedside table.

"Music?" 

"Yes, please." I had a playlist already made. Mostly female vocals, soothing but with an edge. PJ Harvey. Warpaint. Portishead. Hole. Stuff like that. 

"You're so incredibly beautiful," he remarked as he walked back towards me, his arms open. He held me for a moment, capturing my lips in a soft kiss before he whispered, "Ready?" I nodded, so Tom sat down at the edge of the bed and beckoned me to him. 

We always started with a nice, long warm-up, and Tom knew I preferred over-the-knee, using just his big, strong hand. I loved the comfort  that skin-on-skin contact engendered. It felt so intimate and loving. He helped me lie across his lap and began to rub my bottom and my thighs. With my hands on either side of his left calf to steady myself, I took a few more deep breaths, but I knew we'd start slow, so I was pretty calm.

Over the short time since we'd adopted mood-adjustment spankings, we had developed rules. Basically, I was given a lot more leeway. I was allowed to be as vocal as I wanted to ("no" was my favorite word, of course, since it didn't carry the same meaning as in a normal relationship), I could be restrained in any way I thought I needed (or not, although for me, restraints made me feel safer and more comfortable), and Tom was more encouraging, both verbally and physically. I was even given little breaks if I was having a particularly hard time, and I could ask him to slow down a bit as long as I didn't abuse the privilege (by saying "wait"). However, the spanking was not less painful by any measure (in some ways, they were worse), and I was not allowed to quit before Tom felt I had gotten where I needed to be (unless, of course, there were extenuating circumstances and then I could halt the session by saying "stop", just like any other time, and so could Tom). Also, the amount of blows was not set ahead of time; the spanking lasted until I was basically all cried out, no resistance left, according to Tom's judgment. He was still in charge, and I still willingly submitted to his authority. At the end of every session was a much longer winding-down period, with lots of affection before we had sex. 

Starting with little swats, he began, alternating between each buttock. The first several were quite easy, and Tom stopped occasionally to rub my back, murmuring "Good girl", or "I love you". Soon, though, he began to put more strength into it, and so I reached my hand behind my back in a silent entreaty for him to restrain me. He obliged immediately, holding my wrist against the small of my back. "Legs too?"

"Yes, please," I responded, the emotion clear in my voice. I wasn't crying yet, but I was definitely getting close. He swung his right leg over the backs of my knees, securing my legs and rendering me immobilized. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course, darling. Ready?"

"Yes, sir." The warm-up was pretty much over, and indeed, the next few blows were intense, even with just his hand. After a good ten or fifteen more, the tears began. Sporadic, though, not a sustained outpouring. More a precursor. Tom knew I could take much more when restrained, and we always moved gradually. The point though, was simple: push my boundaries. Push me past the point where my emotions are in control in order to allow me to control those very emotions. Challenging, but so rewarding.

Tom picked up the pace, but I was wriggling so much I knew we were going to have to move to the bed. He stopped, rubbing my already-reddened flesh. "Ready to move?"

"Can I just have a few more here?"

"Okay, just a few, alright?"

"I know, sir." He began again, and I tried to keep still. I wished I could stay on his lap forever. Already hard, his cock pressed against my side, it was heaven to me. But I knew he was right. In order for this to work, we needed to move on to something more powerful. The last few with his hand, he put all his strength into it, and I knew it was time. "Mmm… Oh god! Okay, okay, sir, I'm done," I cried out, breathless.

"Such a good girl," he purred, leaning down to kiss my back. He lingered for a moment, his hips rocking up almost imperceptibly before he nudged me gently to get up. He offered me some water and drank some himself before urging, "Lie down."

I crawled onto the bed and draped myself across the pillow, my hands and feet at each of the bed's four corners. Tom secured my cuffs before retrieving his implement of choice: a vintage leather _rebenque_ whip he'd recently bought online. We'd only used it once before, in an assessment capacity. It hurt. A lot. I honestly would have preferred the belt, but I'd forgotten all about this new whip.

Tom laid it across my buttocks and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Picking up the implement, he asked, "Ready?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, a little nervous, but ready to get this over with. It was like a mixture of joy and dread coursing through my veins. Fear and reassurance.

"A little warm-up, but after that, no holding back, okay, darling? Remember to breathe. We can stop any time."

"I know, sir. I'm ready." Tom swatted me a couple of times to both re-acquaint me with the feel of the whip, and also to warm me back up after my break. Within ten or twelve strokes, though, he had worked up to a fervent pace. I began to cry again, but he didn't abate. Instead, he switched temporarily to my thighs. The pain was so much sharper without as much flesh to absorb the blows, and it didn't dissipate as quickly. I started to falter, and I broke down, "Oh… sir, wait, sir…"

He paused, but only for a moment. "Elizabeth…" From the tone of his voice, it was clear he meant it as a very mild chastisement. I was not even close to my limit, let alone past it, and I was supposed to reserve any stoppage for something more serious. I took it a lot harder, though, in my over-stimulated state.

"Sorry, sir, I'm ready," I coughed, crying even more after hearing the barely-discernible displeasure in his voice.

"Oh, darling, it's okay," he reassured me, leaning down and kissing me along my hairline. "I'm not upset. But we need to get you through this all the way. You know you'll feel better."

"I know," I sniffled pitifully, my tears now flowing freely. 

He brushed his thumb across each cheek, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Ready?"

I nodded, and Tom picked up right where he left off, on my thighs. It felt like he stayed there for an hour, although I know it was probably less than a minute. I was sobbing by the time he finally moved back up to my ass. I thought I'd get a slight break, but he increased the pace, laying two blows in the same time he usually landed one. The pain was almost unbearable. I tried to breathe, tried to relax. I was fighting against my bonds, my arms and legs bowing off the bed as I twisted and writhed. "Sir…" I sobbed, before being reduced to just saying "no, no, no," over and over. 

He stopped for a moment, waiting, giving me a chance to say the word, but I knew, and Tom knew; I wasn't there yet. I stayed silent, wanting him to keep going. So he started again, harder, pushing me further and not giving me enough time to process the increasingly acute discomfort. I had to _feel_ the pain. I had to, otherwise, I could not surrender and I'd be right back where I started. I began to cry again, wailing softly, my mouth open against the comforter as I thrashed my bound legs, my fingers and toes curled in absolute agony.

"You can do it, Elizabeth, you know you can and so do I." Tom was so astute at reading me, knowing how far to push and when it was about to pay off. And he was right, of course. I was so close. Everything welled up inside me, a cloud heavy with rain, waiting for the storm to burst through and relinquish everything. I didn't think I could do it, but I needed this relief so desperately. Needed this release. "Oh god, oh god… sir…" And finally I just let go. Total abandon. I stopped moving and I just wept.

Tom stopped immediately, undoing my cuffs and curling up next to me as I continued to cry. Safe in his arms, I could leave everything behind and start fresh. He kissed me on my forehead, holding me close to him, rubbing my back tenderly. His arm reached across me and he grabbed a tissue, handing it to me. "There you go. Let it go, sweetheart. You're safe. I'm here."

Choking on my sobs, I turned over to face him. The kleenex did little to stem the tide of seemingly never-ending tears. I babbled somewhat frantically, "I love you, thank you… thank you so much…"

"Shh… you don't need to thank me. You don't ever need to thank me." I kept crying for a good ten minutes longer, but it eventually dissipated into little sniffles. Tom kissed my forehead, his arms never wavering for a second as he cradled me, supporting me both physically and emotionally. The rush of endorphins from both the pain and the crying was a heady combination, and soon I had a dreamy smile etched on my tear-stained face. "Better?"

"Mmm-hmm…" I swung my leg over Tom's, pulling him closer, his still-erect cock straining against his shorts. Scooting closer, I lifted my hips, pressing my heat against his hardness. He groaned softly.

"I love you Elizabeth."

"I love you, too, sir… " This was the best part. My hands found his waistband and I slid one hand down the front as he quickly divested himself of them altogether. Once he was completely nude, I moved down, taking the tip of his cock into my mouth and sucking languidly. 

"Ahh…" Grinning, I took more of him into my mouth, my hand gently squeezing his balls as I increased my pace. Soon, though, his fingers tangled in my hair and he coaxed me back to him, capturing my mouth in an intensely deep kiss. "On your back, darling. Bend your knees a little. Perfect."

I obeyed immediately, my clitoris throbbing from the combination of my sore ass and Tom's commanding voice. His dominant voice was like warm honey, intoxicating and rich. A little lower than normal, slightly guttural, purely erotic. I spread my legs for him, and he lay in between, one hand under each knee. I caught his glance and he smirked. Licking his lips slowly, he began to lower himself to my aching sex. First he kissed my lower abdomen before his lips found the tops of my thighs, then the delicate insides. A light nip here, some sucking there. Agonizingly slowly he moved, until he centered himself finally at the place I desperately wanted him to touch. But he didn't. Instead, he exhaled, his hot breath hitting my wet folds, causing an explosion of sensations. I whimpered. 

"Sir… please…" I begged. Obliging, he pressed his open lips against my swollen clitoris, eliciting a shaky, "Oh god!" from me. Intently he sucked, his tongue pressing in rhythmic undulations. My hips began to rock forward; we moved together, united as one. 

"Mmm… Elizabeth you taste of ambrosia," Tom whispered, slipping one finger into my now-dripping center and pumping lazily, watching my every reaction. Moving faster, he brought me closer, edging me quickly towards orgasm. But I didn't want that. I grabbed his arm and tugged, drawing him towards me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing… I just want you inside me…" Removing his finger, he licked it for a moment before offering it to me. I sucked hungrily, smiling, watching his head fall back as he lost himself in pleasure.

"Dear god, your mouth…" Tom removed his hand and positioned himself at my entrance. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, he covered his tip in my wetness. Instead of penetrating me, though, he kept teasing, rubbing his cock on my clitoris and back down to my slit.  When I thought I couldn't bear another moment, he slid his cock inside and thrust until he was buried to the hilt.

Inhaling sharply, I grabbed one tensed bicep in each hand, but he quickly ordered me, "Headboard." So I reached up, my fingertips touching the headboard as he began to fuck me vigorously, his cock grazing my cervix with each forceful movement. After a moment, he paused, but didn't remove his cock. Reaching over, he got a few things from the bedside table. One was a vibrator, and he turned it on immediately, resting it against my now-swollen clitoris.

"Oh fuck… sir…" His tongue in my supple mouth quieted me, and he kissed me as he began to thrust again, just as hard, no abatement. The vibrator worked its magic, though, and before I knew it, I was on the verge of climax. At the closest possible point, Tom stopped, removing the vibrator and his cock. "Tom!"

"Shh… just relax." The restraints that had been on my wrists were still on the bed, and Tom picked them up, attaching them to my ankles. Legs spread wide, hips lifted, I felt completely exposed and completely at his mercy. Utterly his. He grabbed the vibrator, covering it in lube before turning it on low and returning to me. One eyebrow raised, he inquired gently, "Ready?"

"Yes, sir." I bit my lip as the vibrator entered my other entrance, but it didn't take long before I relaxed and took it easily. Once the vibrator was completely inside my ass, Tom re-entered me, slower, more meticulous this time. Each thrust was now poised directly at my g-spot. His thumb found my clitoris, finally giving it more attention. It didn't take long before I succumbed completely. I came, absolutely uninhibited, soaring into utter bliss. A frenzy of cries and moans, twisted together into a symphony of complete abandon. Surrender.

My walls convulsed around him, and he had to stop to stay his own orgasm. Breathless, his lips hovered above mine."My perfect girl," he breathed, his words halting as he struggled to make his body obey. Laying himself against me, he kept his hand lodged between us, his thumb still against my pulsating clitoris. The vibrator's oscillations stimulated both Tom's cock and my g-spot, so even without any friction, the sensation, coupled with Tom's added weight against me, lifted me towards another climax. Tom could feel it building again, my walls beginning to quiver about his length. But he had other plans. Rising onto his knees, he began to fuck me deeply again. He kept his body close to mine, though, so that each thrust pressed against my sensitive nub. "Fuck, darling… I don't think…"

"A little bit, please, sir," I pleaded, now needing this second orgasm more than the breath in my lungs. I gasped as he slowed but didn't move. His hands found my throat and he closed down just barely, just enough to precipitate my release. The slight lack of oxygen was the perfect catalyst, I was so close I could feel it. Tantalizing, approaching and retreating, but it would not stay. "Please, Tom… sir, please I need you to…"

He tightened his grip, thumbs across the front of my throat, and his lips met mine. He began to whisper into my mouth. "I can't wait Elizabeth. Oh god, I'm going to fuck you so hard. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to keep from screaming, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, please…." I managed despite his fingers digging into my neck, despite the delayed reaction as the watercolor began to bleed from my periphery, taking over my sight and reducing it to a hazy shadow. He released a little, allowing me to stay in that middle zone: not too hard, not too soft. When he found the perfect pressure against my throat, he began to thrust again, harder than before. Each thrust rougher than the previous one, each one causing me to have to strain to keep my fingers in place. "Oh god…"

"I warned you," he growled, kissing me sweetly in contrast. 

Whimpering, I knew I was about to be pushed past another limit. Driving into me, relentless, it was as if he was possessed. But the angle was perfect, my g-spot now receiving constant pressure from each side, and my clitoris being stimulated every time his hips crashed into mine. And it hit me. My back arching off the bed, I was barely cognizant, drowning in bliss. A wave of pleasure breaking as my entire body yielded to the swell. I cried out, my voice filling the room, "Tom! Oh god, Tom!"

Squeezing his fingers harder again, he left all semblance of self-control behind, pounding into me, charging headlong into his own release. It didn't take but a few more seconds before he lost himself in pleasure, head thrown back as he exploded inside me. His fingers went slack, and his body collapsed on top of my own. Despite the order, I instinctively reached down to hold him. He didn't complain. Before I could ask, he released my cuffs and removed the vibrator. Wrapping my legs around his waist, he held me close, and we stayed there for a few minutes, both of us a little overwhelmed, but closer than ever before. "Elizabeth, I love you so much."

I didn't respond; there was no need. We belonged to each other.


End file.
